


wagers

by thorkidumpster



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: (Temporarily), BAMF Sif (Marvel), Bets & Wagers, Coitus Interruptus, Cunnilingus, Explicit Sexual Content, Female Shifted Loki, M/M, Masturbation, Misunderstandings, Multiple Orgasms, Sif takes no shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-13
Updated: 2017-11-13
Packaged: 2019-02-01 15:10:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12707454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thorkidumpster/pseuds/thorkidumpster
Summary: The doors yields before her with a thunderousBOOM,and there, framed like a holo, is Thor, pressing his weight into a woman whose wrists were bound with corded, shimmering rope to her lower back. Her dark hair is a mess, obscuring her face.Thor’s head jerks up and he stares at Sif with owlish surprise. “Knocking…” he says, cock still buried in the woman, “would have been preferred.”Sif widens her stance, bearing her weight onto her back foot. “Remove yourself from her,” she growls, “or I share remove you myself.”





	wagers

* * *

 

Sif has always loved the deep, inner sanctuary of the palace. Far from the golden, glinting metal of the Great Hall, designed to awe and impress, here is far more intimate, the walls lined with holos of the reigning family. To her right, a chubby Thor chases a toddling Loki, who ducks behind Frigga’s skirts and sticks out his tongue.

To her left, Frigga and Odin dance, twirling around the feasting hall, laughing and painfully young. The event had been, if Sif recalls her history correctly, their betrothal. Somewhat scandalously, Frigga’s belly has the slightest bump to it; twins, each barely larger than a peach, nestled safely inside.

Were Sif to take one of the branching corridors, she would eventually come to see herself, sparring with the princes, or attending Frigga at a feast, or bloody and victorious after a battle. All fond memories.

Up until now, she had been wandering, aimless, content with revisiting a small, flickering portion of the past. Wasting time until dinner was prepared, for the sun still hung obstinate and low on the horizon, and Asgardians do not begin their evening meals until dusk has turned dark.

But a prickle of a thought itches at her—a way to while away the hour or so before their final meal, born more from nostalgia than any true need for training.

She, Sif decides, is going to track Thor down and spar with him. Perhaps that will have the added benefit of burning off this strange, excess energy in her limbs.

She winds her way to Thor’s chamber, the way well known to her feet; as it should be, after all the times she’s had to drag him from bed before the sun and after the few times he managed to drag her right back into it.

As Sif nears, though, she hears a faint sound. Her head cocks, unsure if she had truly heard—but there! A woman’s moan, low and hoarse, louder now. There is a familiar quality to it, but Sif cannot place it.

She laughs softly to herself—it seems her dear friend has found something—someone—to occupy his time. Sif turns on her heel, perhaps a touch disappointed, but it is not as if they do not have thousands of years to tussle and joke in the dirt of the training grounds.

“Thor!” The woman calls, voice insistent. “Thor—no!  _No, please!_ ”

Like a bolt of lightning from Mjolnir itself, Sif is off, racing towards Thor’s bedroom door, her sandled feet pounding against the hard floors, only to find the door is locked. The woman’s wails go louder, her begging more pained, and Sif backs away from the door two steps before delivering unto it a kick that has shattered sternums, collapsed lungs, and cracked boulders.

The doors yields before her with a thunderous  ** _BOOM_** , and there, framed like a holo, is Thor, pressing his weight into a woman whose wrists were bound with corded, shimmering rope to her lower back. Her dark hair is a mess, obscuring her face.

Thor’s head jerks up and he stares at Sif with owlish surprise. “Knocking…” he says, cock still buried in the woman, “would have been preferred.”

Sif widens her stance, bearing her weight onto her back foot. “Remove yourself from her,” she growls, “or I share remove you myself.”

“What?” Thor blinks. “Oh, no—no, Sif, it is not what you—my friend here, we have a wager—”

But Sif turns her face away from him and looks, instead, to the woman, now laying still and prone. Her features, covered by her sheet of shining black hair, remain a mystery, but there is the barest ghost of an eye—a strikingly pale iris, watching her from under that curtain. Then, white appears, as the woman stretches her lips into a smile.

“Thank you,” the woman says softly, and again, Sif is struck by how familiar the voice is, though she cannot place it. “But Thor speaks the truth. I… perhaps got a bit carried away, but I am safe and willing to see this wager through.”

“A wager you will lose,” Thor replies, not a little smug, and pinches her rump.

Sif stares at the two, a curl of embarrassment building in her belly. “A… wager.”

“Aye,” Thor says, cheerful. “That I could bring her to five peaks. We’ve just completed our third, haven’t we, my love? Now, Sif, if you will excuse me, I have two more mountains to climb.”

He pulls out of her, his cock flagging from the sudden intrusion, but Thor seems unbothered—rather, he flips his companion over onto her back and lifts her hips to his face, burying himself between her thighs as her moaning starts again. He is careful, Sif can tell, teasing her with enough to ache, but not enough to hurt.

Thor loves pleasuring his partner thusly, and he is good—he sucks at the woman’s clit, then opens his mouth to press the flat of his tongue to her, shifting it in long, broad strokes that has her thighs tensing around his neck. A hand sneaks around her backside, and her soppy cunt swallows three fingers with ease.

Sif bites her lip, wetness building between her own legs. “I… apologize,” she says, backing out of the room, but neither of them respond. Sif shuts the battered door as best she can before leaning heavily on the frame. Her own cunt pulses hard, and she’s unsure of whom she’s more envious of—the woman, for Thor’s affections are no trifling thing, or Thor for snatching such a beautiful woman. She is, with her pale, glowing skin, the moon to his sun.

A loud cry signals that Thor has won the fourth orgasm, and discarding dignity to the wind, Sif lifts her skirt and presses two shaking fingers to her clit, determined that they shall both reach that last one together.

 

– – –

 

An hour after Thor has drawn out the final, quivering, messy orgasm, the feasting gong rings throughout the palace. Loki lifts his head and glances with bleary eyes at the door, but shuts them, as if even the thought of rising from bed is too exhausting to manage.

“I win, darling brother,” Thor whispers, pressing a kiss to Loki’s lax buttock and untying the rune-knot that binds both his hands and his magic. A spiral of green rises where his lips touched and washes over Loki’s body, replacing the soft swells and cum-filled cunt with hard angles and a cock that shan’t find hardness for days after this.

Loki groans, hissing as he tries to raise his legs into a more dignified position. “Of course you didn’t,” he grumbles.

Thor scowls. “And how is that?”

“Drawing five orgasms from me when I am a woman is simple enough; besides, the wager was made in my male body.”

“Semantics.”

“Semantics mean everything in a wager, brother.”

“Very well.” Thor nods; he cannot argue with that. “Then we shall begin tonight.” With a sure hand, he reaches for Loki’s spent, raw cock, and with the other, he draws Loki close against his body, pressing his own hardening cock against Loki’s ass.

“Noooo,” Loki gasps, struggling, even as his thighs spread open wide to further invite Thor’s hand. “Brother, please, please, no—”

“Shhh…” Thor nuzzles at his brother’s neck and kiss that salty skin. He lets his voice drop low and rough, just as he knows Loki prefers. “Would you have Sif burst in again and see you thus? Spread out like a whore for your brother, begging despite your protests?”

Loki whines, high in his throat.

“Ten orgasms in one day, brother… we shall be up til the dawn, but I will draw every single one from your body, this body, until you are ruined. Until you haven’t the strength to leave my chambers ever again.”

Loki doesn’t answer; rather, he loops an arm over Thor’s neck and shudders as Thor takes that opportunity to suck on the offered nipple.

Again, the call for dinner rings out, but Thor ignores it. No feast in all the realms could possibly compare to the one currently laid out on his bed.

 

* * *

 


End file.
